Dancing with the Negatives

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
Stream of consciousness de-stressor ramblings

Submitted: October 09, 2016

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Submitted: October 09, 2016



My depression is a monster. But I don’t know if it’s a natural born beast or man made. I think in truth though, its built by silence. Or at least fed by him.

My enemy is silence. Or perhaps it is speech. My speech that brings me only silence from others. An impenetrable wall that bears down on me as I grasp blindly, trying to feel my way out from it. Yet if I were to remain silence a different sort of monster plagues me, a parasite that eats slowly at my insides. The parasite won’t let me go, it forbids me from letting other things go. But should my words really be heard when all I receive in return is silence. Which is worse the parasite or the silence? At least with the parasite I am not alone.

My reaction to silence isn’t healthy. It’s anxiety. An accelerated heart rate at the unspoken. The worst possible scenarios flying through my head.

Is this what love is? Anxiety?

No. I threw my love away because it wasn’t returned. Because the ache of unrequited was such that I couldn’t endure its slow crushing of all within me. My organs slowly turning to putty beneath the pressure of awareness. That I was giving too much.

They say that you should love fully regardless of if that person loves you back.

I call bullshit. The inequality of that investment is unfair to both parties. If love is not two ways, then instead of it being circuit, completing itself to form light, it is only a dimly flickering bulb, alone in the darkness, calling out for attention.

I’m calling out for attention, in my world of silence I want it so terribly badly. Perhaps we are not compatible if the reaction to my words is silence.

Perhaps the silence is a statement that I am not wanted. That my anger was received and rejected. Like my love and my devotion, it is merely a burden upon the other. Like my feelings.

Oh how I wish I didn’t have them. That my heart would be cold and stoic as ice. That my soul was an empty ice palace. A lonely palace to be sure, but one where the noise within my head would be silenced.

Because when I receive silence the noise in my head grows so loud. A cacophony. A loud bashing concert of a dozen or more artists striving for my attention. But do you know who has the center stage.

A small band. The Negatives. They play louder than all the others. Telling me how much I messed up. Telling me the end is near. A cruelty?

A mercy. Preparing me for the worst. So that when the worst happens at least I foresaw the fatal blow. But if the blow is really so fatal isn’t it better not to have seen its coming? Is the blow fatal? Or severing? Who can be sure because right now the knife is still perched in the silence before me, I cannot see it coming.

I do not want to be alone. That is not a good statement. It’s not the truth, even without you I won’t be alone, I’ll have all my demons and friends.

I do not want to be without you. That is a good statement. It is the truth. I want you with every fiber of my being even when you and I are at our worst.

But is it ever your worst? Is it ever really mine? I feel my worst is when I’m floating without your guidance. How did I get here? When I stood so steady on my own before your arrival.

But my heart is heavy. It’s full of your silence and that silence makes me want to cry. How is it that I can endure and take so much, but your silence removes me of even my strongest convictions?

I’ll do anything to break the silence. The silence feels like rejection. It feels like a dark closet where no one will let me out. The loneliness of knowing I’m damaged and unwanted.

What an unhealthy spring my loneliness is! I drink from it to receive comfort. But I am never sated! I always need more time. More attention. More everything except silence. The silence breaks me down. A strong reaction. A damaged reaction. I’m sorry I’m damaged, please don’t leave me.

I don’t mean to be damaged. I tried to fix myself. I’ve been trying all my life. I’ve tried with every effort of my being to let the past go. But it chases me!! No that’s not right. It stalks me. A silent predator in tall grass, and when I lower my guard it’s there.

The damaged me. The angry me. The depressed me.

All my different selves surround me, writhing to the beats of the Negatives.

Why won’t they leave me alone!

I am trapped by your silence on an island of me, and I hate me!

There I admitted it. I hate me sometimes, because I love you.

And me gets in between me and you.

Which is really what is all comes down to right?

Me and you.

Or rather you and me.

And you leaving me.

The unspoken fear. That queen of the island of me is lonely without you. Without you the Negatives crank their beats louder, and the wraiths of my negative traits draw closer to her side. They claw at her jeans, and pound at her chest. They whisper threats in her ears, while the sea of silence keeps her from fleeing, from calling for help.

For when she’s without you she feels alone.

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